


Space Mom

by Ennazul



Series: Ennazul's Freebies [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 4+1 fic, Bandages, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hiding Injuries, Homesick Lance (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Hunk (Voltron) has no concept of privacy, Implied Sexuality Crisis, Insecure Hunk (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith whump, Lance (Voltron) in Denial, M/M, PTSD, Secrets, Slice of Life, Spying, Weight insecurity, everyone obeys Commander Shiro, relationships somewhat left up to interpretation, she/her pronouns for pidge, space mom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 22:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16962573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ennazul/pseuds/Ennazul
Summary: Pidge addresses Keith's tendencies to overexert himself and hide injuries, Shiro's PTSD and guilt, Lance's self-doubt and misplaced feelings, and Hunk's anxiety and inability to stand secrets. In exchange, they help her on one of the few occasions she needs it.Also known as '4 times Pidge was there for her space family, and 1 time they were there for her.'(Set in Seasons 1-3 with spoilers until then. You need to have watched the show to keep up in this fanfic.)





	1. Keith

**Author's Note:**

> Content Maturity Rating: All  
> Reading Difficulty Rating: 12 and up  
> Triggers: PTSD, panic attacks, minor injuries and blood, adoption, sexuality crisis  
> Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender, spoilers for Seasons 1-3  
> Universe: Canon  
> Author: Ennazul  
> Copyright: Story universe and characters belong to DreamWorks. Ennazul reserves the right to the written work and plot only. No profit is made from this work.  
> This work is not yet beta'd and might have some minor mistakes. Feel free to mention them in the comments if you find them, and I will see to it that they are fixed.

* * *

 

Big things happened in a short amount of time, Pidge was aware.

She learned that fact (contrary to the cliché) the easy way, when her lack of friends at school lead to Pidge immersing herself in the fictional land of books. Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Narnia, you name it- if it's a classic nerd series, she probably has two copies of each book (a paperback for casual reading and a hardcover collector's edition in a glass display case she guards with her life) and has a college-level thesis ready, just in case piloting and engineering didn't work out and she chose to study literature instead.

It was in these books that she began to realize that there were many pages in which nothing happened, then suddenly one page that changed everything. It taught her the weight of moments and how to take advantage of them, which ended up being a key skill in her list of attributes as a Paladin- not quite as instinctive and fiery as the Right Arm but not as hesitant or unmoving as the Left Leg, but somewhere in-between- landing her on the spot of the Left Arm, in the Green Lion, that served the purpose of passive attack and active defence.

Speaking of the attributes of a Paladin, that was another thing that happened in a series of moments- from watching the alien spacecraft fall and crash into Earth, to falling off a cliff on a speeder, to falling through a hole that magically opened in the ground (they seemed to be doing a lot of falling these days), tiny moments of adventure happened in rapid fire, punctuating a day that felt chock-full but mostly consisted of filler material that someone from an outside point of view would have considered too irrelevant to include if, for example, there was a TV show made about them.

Like that was ever going to happen.

Another thing that happened in scarcely a moment - in fact was not even given a moment - was meeting Keith.

Out of all the people Pidge had been trapped in the Blue Lion with, Keith was the only one she hadn’t been acquainted with at the time. She deduced quickly that Lance was the only one who had some sort of connection, may it be friendship, hero-worship or rivalry, with every other person in the vicinity. The rest had at least one stranger on board with them. And for Pidge, that stranger was Keith.

Her first impression of him was... Emo. Very emo. Other than the few times he snapped at Lance, he mostly spoke like his head was far away, almost slipping into a daydream when he started explaining about tracking the energy to the caves and trying to unscramble the meanings behind the lion hieroglyphics. It instantly reminded her of her cousin Tyler, who after a car accident that he thankfully escaped mostly unharmed from, was rather dissociated from life, getting caught up in his head far more often than in what happened around him. At the time, he only seemed to have four emotions- anger, sarcasm, numbness and onion (she counted the latter because at least onions made him cry). It had taken months of therapy and a lot of support from the family for him to return to some semblance of himself again.

And well, Keith didn't have either of that.

Pidge knew from the beginning that both Keith and Shiro were messed up emotionally before they even stepped on board the Castleship, and would most likely only get worse if they weren't given psychotherapeutic attention, stat. But they were thrown into the deep end of the war so quick, and were almost constantly exhausted for the rapid-order missions of the first week; a rhythm that had mostly deescalated since, with maximum three unplanned missions per week and the occasional training session in the gaps.

So when they at last got the opportunity to really immerse themselves in activities of their choice, she could finally get to what should have been addressed days before.

 

She found Keith in the infirmary, but he wasn't interacting with one of the many healing pods in any way (Lance constantly complained that he kept getting roped into cleaning duty alongside Coran). Instead, he was sitting slouched below an open cupboard that was cleverly hidden in the wall panelling, with shelves heavy with first aid supplies. Spread out at his feet were tiny scissors, an open bottle of disinfectant, snippets of bandages and a few bloody cotton (or the space equivalent) balls. His head was down as he focused on picking at a role of tape while keeping his bicep pressed against his chest to keep the already-wrapped bandage from slipping. There was already a red stain on it, but it didn't seem to be spreading, so at least the Red Paladin wasn't about to bleed to death from his reluctance to own up about his injuries.

"What happened?" Pidge asked, stepping into the room.

Keith shot up onto his feet so fast that his head hit the cupboard door. He grunted and winced at the impact, taking a few seconds to suck up the pain before slowly raising the non-injured arm's hand to his head to check for blood or any other serious injury.

Pidge's shoulders shrunk up in second-handed pain. "Ooch. S- sorry."

"It's okay." With his free hand, Keith closed the door, to avoid any similar incidents in the near future. He looked at Pidge, frowning slightly but with a more relaxed expression than he'd had immediately after the impact. "Did you need something?"

"I just wanted to know... what happened." She vaguely gestured at him, unable to decide what injury to address first, as she quickly noticed he had more bandages wrapped around his knuckles and his left calf, which was exposed due to his pants being rolled up to the knee.

Keith shrugged. "Training. I'm not ready for Level Three yet, I guess."

"But Shiro said we get some time off now. Why are you still training?"

"We've got to be ready." He said it with a blank stare over Pidge's shoulder that nearly made her turn around to check that what they needed to be ready for, wasn't in fact raising an axe behind her. But she steeled herself, knowing that Keith's paranoia was no doubt a part of his past trauma. After all, he made one friend and that friend got abducted by aliens. He probably thought he was a magnet for Bad Things Happening.

As Keith finally got the bandage taped securely, Pidge asked, "Shouldn't you use a pod instead? You'll heal faster and you won't be impaired by injuries if we go into battle." She learned early on that nothing was relevant for Keith unless it somehow improved their chances of winning the war.

Keith shook his head determinedly, like he'd thought it through and made the decision long before. "No. I'm not using a pod if I can help it. Coran says you've got to be in the pod for minimum one REM cycle, and it's dangerous to do an emergency wake-up in the middle of one. A fight could start at any moment and we've got too few people to have somebody out of commission for something stupid like a paper cut."

"But that's not a paper- Keith!" she yelled as he simply stood up and walked past her like she didn't exist. "Keith you reckless idiot, get in the pod or I'm telling Shiro you're pushing yourself too hard in training!"

That made the boy stop in the doorway, not moving a muscle for a good half minute as he mulled over her words.

Pidge was surprised. She didn't expect it to be that easy. She could probably blackmail Keith into doing anything if she had the right dirt and brought up their leader.

In fact her words worked so well she was actually starting to feel guilty about giving Keith the internal crisis that he had. She’d gone looking for him with the goal of clearing up his head, not cramming it with even more stress. "Alright; no pod," she decided. "But at least tell somebody when you get injured, so we know to look out for you on missions and maybe you can get some help with the bandages. I know first aid. I can wrap it up in a few seconds and it won't ever slip."

Keith took another few moments to process, before flatly saying, "Thanks for the offer, Pidge," and stepping forward to let the door seal behind him, no confirmation whether he was going to accept it or not.

 

When Keith's bandages needed changing, he walked up to where Pidge was coding in the lounge, and wordlessly placed the roll, gauze, disinfectant and scissors beside her. And when she held onto his arm to keep it steady while dabbing the disinfectant over the crusty wound, she wondered how long it had been since Keith had trusted anyone to be near him when he was vulnerable.

* * *

 

 


	2. Shiro

* * *

 

Pidge was pulling an all-nighter, scanning through stolen Galra prisoner information manually for any hint of her brother, in a quiet little nook of the hallway near the rooms, when she heard a yell that wrenched her heart out her chest. It reminded her of when she'd accidentally stepped on Baebae's tail as a puppy and the little yelp that had escaped her beloved dog, prompting her to pick the pup up and soothe him with cuddles and apologies immediately. It was a fusion of a scream and a cry that just begged for mercy and help. Except this was a more baritone voice than the high vocals of a puppy, was muted from distance, with a source that couldn't immediately be comforted (despite the pull she felt to do so), and wouldn't stop after a heartbeat. No, it continued, without a single break for breath, at various pitches. It hardly sounded human.

She nearly threw her computer off her lap in shock, and was up on her feet so quick her vision got spotty. She considered rushing to get her armour, in case she was on her way into a fight, but luckily she'd made a habit of keeping her bayard on her belt. So she didn't feel entirely exposed as she sprinted down the hallway, forcibly taking slow breaths to calm her pounding heart to the point where she might actually be able to detect the direction of the sound.

Just as she was about to round the corner, a dark shape appeared around it, crashing into her. It didn't even seem to stumble at the impact, but Pidge was sent to the floor- giving her enough time to grab her bayard before rolling into a crouch.

Under the eerie green light emanating from her activated bayard, which she'd pointed in the direction of the intruder, she saw a familiar lean shape and longish dark hair. Pidge lowered the bayard until it was no longer in position to threaten her comrade. She gave Keith a quick look up-and-down. He was wearing his pyjamas (really it was just his day shirt with grey tracksuit pants and some socks, but he slept in it, so what else could she call it?), so he'd probably gone to bed and gotten up again. His chest was heaving, the motion amplified by the shadows cast by her bayard, his shoulders were hunched up, his legs and arms spread wide, ready to defend or flee, sweat was breaking out on his forehead and upper lip, and his pupils were as small as pinpricks from distress. He seemed to vibrate under her gaze. The pallor of his skin was hard to tell under the light, but Pidge got the impression the boy was near fainting. She quickly straightened her legs. "Keith, what- what's going on? I heard screaming. Was it you?"

Keith's head shook. Then he stopped, and opened his mouth. Then he shook his head again.

"Keith, I'm going to need you to use your words," Pidge carefully said, motioning ‘calm down’ with her hands.

"Sh- Shiro's having a nightmare."

Oh no.

Keith's voice sounded on the verge of tears, cracking on every bit-back syllable. He harshly turned his head away, burying his face in the crook of his elbow. She heard him suck in a deep breath before he faced her again. "I- I can't snap him out of it! His eyes are open and he's up, but... he's just not there... He just keeps screaming and attacking everything that touches him. He ripped his covers in half like they were paper, just because they got caught in his feet, I... I don't know what to do!"

The screaming was still going on. Now that she knew who it came from, she could better picture Shiro as the origin of the sound. It was his voice, but so warped with fear that it had been beyond recognition at first. How was most of the castle not awake already? Or were they all just pretending it wasn't happening, hoping it would just go away? Either that or they were all extremely heavy sleepers, in which case she made a mental note to increase the volume of the emergency alarms, just in case.

But back to the case at hand. Pidge wasn't experienced with PTSD, and she would prefer to not learn now, but no doubt Coran had some experience. He seemed to know something about everything, and something was better than nothing, which was what Pidge had. "Maybe we should call the others-"

"NO!" Regret was visible on Keith's face immediately after noticing Pidge shrink. He clapped his hand over his mouth, brows tilting up in horror. Without removing his hand, he continued, on a lower note, "It's bad enough that you know. Shiro... Shiro wouldn't want anybody else to see him like this. We can't let more people know than is absolutely necessary."

Pidge felt frustration well up in the pit of her stomach, because the solution was _in reach and Keith didn't even want to consider..._  She clenched her fist, pressed her eyes closed, and sucked in a deep breath to reset her system. The fire in her body eventually went out as she convinced herself that both the now and the future for Shiro's emotional stability were important, and that Keith would, out of everyone, relay Shiro's unspoken wishes best. "Alright. We can handle it ourselves. We just have to follow the rules of addressing PTSD episodes like they taught us in the Garrison."

"Okay." Keith looked at her expectantly. When she said nothing, he asked, "What are those again?"

The Green Paladin groaned. "Didn't you pay attention at- oh yeah, it was after you left." She paused to mentally recollect the information from nearly a year before. "Alright, so the main issue is we've got to make sure he doesn't accidentally hurt himself and that something new doesn't happen that scares him even more. We can't really talk him out the episode, but we can make things as comfortable as possible for him for it to wear out faster. He probably had a nightmare about his time as a prisoner of the Galra and I'm going to guess he feels really small right now." She looked Keith up and down. He wasn't very tall, nor was he very broad or muscular, but he was built to the average proportions of a Galran soldier - lean with muscular shoulders - and she could see Shiro making the wrong assumptions if Keith's silhouette approached him. "I think you look intimidating to him in his current mind-set. It's best you don't go in there."

Keith looked ready to protest, but then bit back the words.

Pidge shrugged off her jacket, revealing her striped tank top underneath, and shoved it, her glasses and her bayard into Keith's arms. "Hold these. I'm going in."

"Why'd you take off your jacket? You never do that. And- don’t you need your glasses?"

"They used to be Matt's," Pidge explained, walking in the direction of Shiro's room. It was still around another corner, as were the rest of their rooms. "I'm worried that he'd get worse if he thinks I'm Matt. He probably blames himself for not being able to bring him with when he escaped. So I need to look as little like Matt as possible."

"At least take your bayard with," Keith insisted, taking it off the pile and holding it out to her. "I don't want him to hurt you."

Pidge shook her head, pushing it back. "He won't. As long as I don't go in there looking like an armed enemy soldier."

Keith took a second to ponder over that, then nodded in understanding. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I'll be fine. And so will Shiro."

 

Upon actually reaching the hallway down which their bedrooms were stationed, she realized why nobody was waking up. Shiro's door was left open, allowing his screaming to freely echo through the halls, but everyone else's doors were sealed shut. If there were some sort of soundproofing in the walls, it was likely the sound was too muffled in the rooms to be picked up by deep sleepers. Thankfully there were alarms stationed in each room so there was no risk of sleeping through those.

She inched towards the open door, heart pounding a little harder every time a scream assaulted her ears. The lights were off inside, but the pale blue wall decals cast everything into soft silhouettes- just enough light to not trip over anything.

On the first once-over she didn't see Shiro, because she'd scanned the room for a tall shape running around and trashing the place. It took a second, more thorough look to realize that the dead-still round thing on the bed was her team leader crouched in the tiniest bundle he could make.

It felt like something she wasn't supposed to see. It wasn't right to see the eldest and most stable of them all having a severe panic attack. It made everything else feel more unstable, like the floor of the spaceship might give in, or like the artificial gravity was fluctuating, or that the Galra might come out of nowhere with a super weapon and blast them out of existence, or...

_Cold sweat, panic, blood pumping, eyes looking everywhere but not seeing anything, sounds outside, sounds inside, danger, run, run, RUN-_

Pidge caught herself before she could fall into the same downwards spiral, forcing herself to turn away from the sight, focus on a steady light in the wall, and breathe in, breathe out. In... out. Shiro needed her to be calm. In... out. It would be cruel to expect him to always be stable. In... out. He's allowed to be like this; it's not the end of the world. In... out. It's fixable. She was going to fix it.

In.

Out.

Pidge nodded to herself in encouragement, before taking the last few steps into the room. She half-expected the door to slide shut and seal behind her in typical horror movie fashion, but thankfully it didn't. It felt safe having the escape route open behind her. But another equally shocking sudden change happened- one that also nearly made her soul jump out her body.

The screaming stopped. And everything seemed impossibly silent.

She tuned her ears in on smaller noises, and could hear the softest muttering coming from the Shiro-bundle. She carefully approached. "Hey, Shiro, take it easy," she slowly murmured, just loud enough so he could hear her above his own mantras. "I'm right here. You're not alone. You're safe and on the Castleship. It's just the two of us here right now."

Shiro's hands shifted from the sides of his head just enough so she could see his eyes looking up at her. A tense few seconds passed in which neither breathed. She worried that Shiro might not even be in the condition to register vocal language- that her words only registered as noise to him. That he might not even observe her as a living thing.

Then his glassy eyes cleared and focused. His pupils, which had almost swallowed the greys of his eyes, slowly retreated back to a normal size. "...Matt?" he whispered in the tiniest, most unlike-Shiro voice she'd ever heard.

Pidge's throat clogged up, refusing to let her correct him.

She only just managed to swallow a yelp when Shiro's large hands grabbed her biceps like talons. Only his eyes, which were just as gentle as before, kept her from fearing for her life. "Matt..." The hands kept changing between squeezing and relaxing, in an unstable rhythm.

"Take it easy." Pidge fought for control over her voice, even when the grip became painful. "You feel horrible now, but it'll go away soon. In the meantime I'll take care of you. It's best if you sit down and just focus on your breathing until it passes. Okay?"

Shiro paused for a while as if considering it, but Pidge guessed he was just having trouble registering the full meaning of her words. "...Okay," he finally replied. The hands eased up for a few seconds, then out of nowhere tightened more than they'd ever had and she had to bite back a grunt.

Pidge looked the confused older man in the eyes. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised, trying to project all sincerity with her gaze.

And the hands relaxed. And slipped away from her arms, falling limply on the bed like he'd gone lame.

The Green Paladin slowly got onto the bed, and sat cross-legged one foot in front of him. "I'm going to be right here. If you want to talk, I'll listen. Do you want to talk?"

Shiro's trembling arms wrapped around his knees, pulling them tightly into his chest. "...I don't know."

"That's fine." _Never push. Let them decide when to open up. Only they know when they can._ "You don't have to until you're ready to."

About five minutes passed, in which Pidge kept her breathing deep and steady for Shiro to match. Occasionally she heard his breath stutter when he fought the instinct to get as much oxygen in as fast as possible. Other than the inhales and exhales, there wasn't another sound to be heard.

Then, out of nowhere, Shiro growled, and he threw his head back, his hands shooting at his hair. "This is stupid! Why can't I just get a grip of myself? The team..." His voice cracked. "...The team needs me to have a clear head, and to lead them, and..."

Pidge shook her head gently. "You are perfectly in your right to not feel good every now and then. You have a reason, and the team respects that. We all care about you, not because you're our leader but because you're our Shiro. And if things get too much for you, we will all sit down with you and take as long as you need to recover. And that's what the two of us are going to do right now, okay? We're gonna take our time, and we're going to focus on just breathing. You got that?"

"...Yes."

It was another few minutes of breathing before Shiro's next breakdown. Tears were streaming out of his eyes in a blink, and he lunged at Pidge to pull her into a tight hug, one arm wrapped almost twice around her waist while the other pushed her head tight against his chest. "...I killed them," he whispered into her hair, voice wet and shaky.

Pidge's heart became a block of ice. Killed? "Killed who?"

He squeezed her tighter. "Prisoners," he slowly answered. "So, so many of them. Innocent, all of them. In the cells, they looked up to me- they thought I'd be their saviour. But in the arena, I had to betray them. I had to save myself. They would have killed both of us if I didn't. Then, then afterward I'd go back in the cell, and there'd be one person less, and they'd have lost a friend or family member but they wouldn't even be angry at me even though I did that. All they had was hope that I'd find a way to get them out of there before I'd be made to kill them. I should have died in there the first day. Then half of them wouldn't have been put in the arena in the first place- they were only put there to test me; to test what I could do. They're all dead because of _me..._ "

"Shiro. Shiro, look at me." Pidge pulled her face out his chest so she could meet his eye. "Tell me, how many were there?"

"I don't know, I- I lost count. It should be burned on my skin that I killed them, so I never forget what I've done, but... I can't even remember half their faces."

"There couldn't have been more than a thousand, though? Not in just one year."

"...No- I- I don't know."

"And just how many lives have you saved in your first three weeks as a Paladin of Voltron?"

"I don't know."

"More than a thousand, surely? There were at least a million Balmerans and that's just one planet, and even if you only take credit for a seventh of it, you staying alive until now has resulted in many more lives being saved than lost. And just think of how many more lives you will keep on saving for weeks and months to come, as a Paladin of Voltron- something that couldn't have happened if you hadn't done everything you could to survive the arena? It might not feel like it right now, Shiro, but the universe needed you to live. Needs you to keep on living."

Shiro sighed heavily, his head sagging and eyes closing in shame. "Did it need me to become a monster, too?"

"You're not a monster, Shiro, you're a hero. And those prisoners knew it better than everyone. They didn't hate you, because they knew you would always do everything you can to help. I know that, too. I know that if they didn't survive, it's not because you didn't do enough, but because there was no chance for them. But there's a chance for everyone else in the universe, and you're the one who gives them that chance. Heck, if it weren't for you, we wouldn't even have found the Blue Lion! When you saved yourself, you saved the universe, and if your brain is trying to tell you any different, then you can tell your brain to go screw itself, because it knows nothing. Don't let it trick you, Shiro- you're a hero to all of us."

With those words, the hug grew tighter and the tears grew bigger. But there was a change in the atmosphere- a happier change. Slowly but surely, Shiro was coming around. It might not be permanent, but at least she'd know how to help him next time.

 

From that day on, Pidge would often be coding late into the night when Shiro opened her door. But she wouldn't scramble to hide her laptop, because she knew he hadn't come over to lecture her on a proper daily routine and the importance of eight hours of sleep. Instead, she'd hold him until he'd cried out all the tears he needed to. Months later, she was still the only person in the team who had ever seen Shiro cry.

* * *

 


	3. Lance

* * *

 

After helping both Keith and Shiro improve their mental health as much as she could, Pidge had just about settled that she was the designated Mother Hen of the Castleship. Sure, Allura was older, but she'd never quite be able to relate to the humans on board enough to even begin to give them what they needed. Whether it was a familiar lullaby or a tight hug, simply because Pidge was from Earth she was far better suited to the role. Plus Allura was more in cue with their progress as Paladins than their emotional wellbeing, always prioritising effort and improvement above mental health or emotional growth.

And Pidge really didn't mind her newfound role one bit. In fact, her heart blossomed with joy whenever she noticed her fellow paladins making progress and healing thanks to her efforts. She shared their pride like it was her own.

Pidge had never been one for romance. Then again, she'd never been one for human interaction unless it was familial, allowing her to open up to her family about everything, but not much to anyone outside. She'd always envisioned her social role in the world as being more of an untouchable matriarch than a desired temptress, and had always wanted to adopt instead of having children on her own. As it was, it seemed she was going to honourarily adopt all the Paladins in her team.

So when Lance sighed heavily beside her while she was coding in the lounge, his limbs splayed out helplessly and the space mice sleeping soundly on his thighs, Pidge felt obliged to stop her work and ask him about it. "A penny for your thoughts?" she asked, setting her computer aside to keep it from distracting her. She had a bad habit of skimming through and looking for bugs even when she promised someone else she was paying attention, so it was best to put it out of reach if she wanted to focus.

"Allura's... pretty amazing," Lance dreamily murmured to the ceiling.

Pidge could feel the smirk crossing her face. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. "Oh? Wanna tell me about just how amazing she is?"

"She's just..." Lance threw his hands up in the air in frustration, spooking the mice and causing them to scatter. "Ugh! She's just perfect in every way. First off, she's drop-dead gorgeous. I mean have you seen her?" He sat up, gesturing with his hands as he ranted until they became a blur. "Oh man, my sisters all have super-long wavy hair like hers most of their lives, except brown, not snow white like hers, and they always ask me for help when they're getting ready for a party, because I do the best plaits in the family. When she's wearing her hair loose my fingers are just... itching to comb through it and make an artwork of it, y'know? And her eyes- they're so interesting, I could stare at them all day and do absolutely nothing else, and when she laughs they sparkle. She's too serious and really should laugh more often- it makes her look cute and approachable instead of an untouchable, perfect beauty. Like, no wonder the Arusians worshipped her. I don't think she's had a single zit in her life. Probably comes with being a princess and having like three servants just to help her take a bath. Although, how do you think she manages it now that she has to do it all on her own?"

Pidge's grin only grew bigger and more sincere at Lance's word vomit. Some days he was just barely bearable, but every now and then there came a day where she swore he was eating right out of the sugar pot, making his mind run even faster than his mouth. If he waved his arms any faster, he might start flying.

"Don't you think it's amazing that she could have had everything done for her, but she clearly decided to do things on her own instead, since she's doing so well and taking such good care of herself even after all her servants are gone?" Lance continued. "Because that skin's so flawless it should be a crime. But of course it's not just about appearances. She's also super-talented and brave and she's always ready to save the day. It's so great to work side-by-side with her to defeat evil. And she's so strong, way stronger than she looks, which is hot. She could pick me up and and throw me across the room and I'd thank her. And she works so hard and keeps pushing herself to her limits for the sake of the greater good- it's super inspiring and makes me want to be a better person. She's impossible to not like- anyone who thinks she's any less than perfect is either jealous or in denial. But sometimes..." The Blue Paladin seemed to lose all energy at once, falling back onto the couch once more, arms spread lazily. "I dunno, sometimes I wish she was a little less perfect, y'know? Just because it's so obvious I'm nowhere near as great as she is, and I probably never will be. She deserves better than me, and no matter how much I improve I'll still never be right for her. Even if she ever does like me, she'll probably realize how worthless I am and get over me super quick. That's if anything ever happened in the first place- she probably thinks I'm just an annoying tag-along seventh wheel. And she'd be right." He sighed again, this time with the weight of a broken heart.

Pidge was still new to motherhood. She didn't know how to address the many issues in Lance's mind that were voiced within that single rant- his obvious insecurity as to his place in the team, his homesickness, his misplaced feelings... There was far more bothering the Blue Paladin, who she'd at first assumed was confident enough to hardly require her help at all, than she could ever have imagined.

So like with all things, she took it one step at a time. This wasn't something that could be repaired in a single go. Rome wasn't built in a day; broken hearts can't be healed in a week.

She scooted a little closer to him, careful not to disturb the fat yellow mouse that had moved from Lance's lap only to settle on hers. "You're right when you say there's a league difference between you- I mean, she is a princess. But that's never really stopped love before, has it?"

Lance quirked a brow, peering up at her.

"What I'm saying is love doesn't care about class or appearances or race or even gender- it just decides 'how about this one?' and you're stuck with the feelings. And it's not just you. There will be people who wonder why oh why it had to be the Blue Paladin of Voltron they fell for. Maybe they'll even think that you're the one out of their league, even if you feel it's the other way around. They might see your strengths as more important than theirs." She laid a steady hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "One day you'll end up with someone, maybe not Allura, and you'll both wonder how the heck it happened, and every day you'll look at each other and think about how lucky you are." Part one - getting Lance's confidence up - was complete. However the Blue Paladin still looked very, well, _blue_.

"So you're saying I've got almost no chance with her?" Lance moaned miserably, Pidge's attempts clearly not sinking in properly.

She sighed. Apparently Lance would be much harder of a job than Keith or Shiro. "I'm saying that if you're looking for happiness, you might be looking in the wrong place. When you can't find the remote control in the living room, then it's probably not in the living room. Maybe you forgot it in, I dunno, the bathroom or something. And you're missing it because you're not even thinking about looking there."

"Of course I wouldn't- why would I leave the remote in the bathroom?"

Apparently metaphors didn't sink well, either. "I've done it before," Pidge shrugged.

Lance's shoulders drooped even further, if that were even possible. Pidge feared the boy's collarbone would snap at some point. "I know I flirt around a lot, but actually I'm getting tired of looking all the time. I just wish love would come to me for once- that somebody else would put effort to it and come find me. I don't know if I've got the energy to, as you put it, look for the remote in every room in the house. Can't you just build me some sort of machine to track down my soulmate?"

When machines were on the topic, it sent Pidge's brain buzzing, and science dominated over emotional sensitivity. "I don’t think that's scientifically valid," she thus said. "Soulmates have no scientific evidence or even theoretical support, and attempting to define it by factors observable by humans will result in bias as wevalue our opinions on compatibility above the spontaneity of instinctual attraction, making people feel pressured to love a person similar to them instead of someone they are organically drawn to despite their inherent differences..." She trailed off when she noticed Lance had gone back to moping, not even bothering to keep up with her reasoning. "That means no," she put in short. "Because opposites attract, and we don't know what kind of opposite you need to look for."

"How about 'I'm attracted to her, and she's not attracted to me?'" Lance suggested lamely. "That's an opposite I see every day."

"No, man!" Pidge chastised, smacking Lance's arm. "I mean like you're loud and they're quiet. Or you're playful and they're serious. Or you're an optimist and they're a pessimist. Or you're touchy and they're distant."

"I don't want a quiet, serious, pessimistic, distant soulmate," Lance grumbled, crossing his arms and staring firmly down at the floor. "I could never be happy with someone like that."

"Well, what if you balance each other out?" Pidge explained, trying to make it sound more like a suggestion so Lance would grab onto it himself rather than feeling force-fed. "What if you're the only person who brings out a smile or a laugh from your soulmate? And when they cuddle with you, it means so much more because you know they wouldn't do that with just anyone."

Lance's arms tightened around his middle, and shifted a bit higher, as his furrowed brow smoothed out. "That... sounds nice," he admitted. "Really nice." He released his grip on his biceps and even managed to smile for a bit, though it was short-lived. "And I think my Mama would appreciate having somebody in the house who isn't permanently on a sugar rush."

Pidge grinned. Phase 2 complete, and even a bit of Phase 3 in combination- Lance was able to think about his family and Earth without bursting into tears, which was a first. Back to Phase 1 to pick up the scattered pieces. "By the way, Lance," she added, nudging him lightly with her elbow. "You don't give yourself nearly as much credit as you're due. You've already come a long way since we left Earth, and with the passion you put into your training and missions, you're going to carry on going a long way before this is over. Regardless of what that voice in your head tells you, and regardless of how much we pick on you, you are a good Paladin. You need to open your mind to the possibility that you're just about everyone's favourite, because it's true."

Lance scowled, happiness gone in an instant again. Ouch. "No, I'm not. For one, I'm definitely not Allura's favourite."

"I said 'just about,' Pidge reminded him. ”Despite what you think, Allura's not perfect, and she's actually super thick-headed at times, so she doesn't count as some greater judgement."

"Who is her favourite, anyway?"

"Well Shiro's the most dedicated, but I think it's probably Hunk since he's a walking beam of sunshine and radiates positivity."

"Hunk?!" Lance gasped, clutching at his chest in mock-heartbreak. "The betrayal! And by my own best friend! I've been stabbed! Stabbed, I tell you, in the back, twenty-three times!"

"Relax, Caeser," Pidge snickered, patting his back. "You're definitely Hunk's favourite."

Lance pressed his fist to his mouth as he stared off in thought. "I'm not Shiro's fave. So, is it you, or Keith?"

"Me," Pidge said without hesitation. Lance looked like he was about to ask why, so she answered before he could, "Keith can't cut training short just by making a puppy face." To prove her point, she took off her glasses, jutted out her lip, scrunched up her brow and tipped down her head so her irises appeared bigger and lower.

Lance appeared tied between groaning and cooing. "Yeah, I hate to give you any more power than you already have, but I'd throw myself off a cliff for that face. That's only one out of three to me so far, though."

It took Pidge a moment to shake the expression off fully and rest her glasses on her nose. "You're definitely Coran's favourite. And you're my favourite."

"Aww, Pidgeotto!" Lance sang. He hooked an arm around her head to pull her in for a hug and a noogie. "C'mere!"

Pidge tackled herself free, then fixed her glasses and made a poor attempt at taming the mop of hair that had already been untameable before Lance decided to introduce static electricity. She swore she could hear it crackling when her jacket sleeve brushed over it. "Favouritism revoked."

"Rude!" Lance blew a raspberry. "Anyway, that gives me three out of five. Three out of six, actually, so no, I'm not 'almost everybody’s favourite.'"

"What makes you so sure you're not Keith's favourite?" Pidge nonchalantly asked.

"He hates me!" Lance burst, raising his arms in a big Y. "And I hate him. We're rivals! We're always fighting and he's had it out for me since the beginning! Thinks he's so much better than everyone else and that I'm just an annoyance."

Pidge shrugged. "Alright, so you guys aren't the most conventional of friends... But you've definitely got a good team dynamic going on. I don't believe you hate him at all- you work too well together on missions for that to be true. And he definitely doesn't hate you."

Lance snorted, propping his head up with his fists. "Right..."

"He's a little cold towards everyone," Pidge admitted, "but he definitely warms up around you." She poked Lance's arm. "You're the only person who can actually get him to let loose and have a little fun. And I think he really appreciates how you get him out of his shell without him even noticing- makes it easier for him. I'd say Keith's favourite has to be at least a tie between you and Shiro."

The Blue Paladin's brow furrowed a bit on thought, before he raised his chin from his hands for a moment, just long enough to utter, "You really think Mullethead appreciates me?" He released a quick breath through the nose, and smiled lightly, eyes cast down. "Wow. Y'know, back at the Garrison, Keith was always one step ahead of everyone else, and talking to graduates like Shiro like it's no big deal. And we were almost the same age. Ever since I met him, I always felt like I should be able to do everything he does, but no matter how hard I push I still can't manage it, and he beats me by a mile and makes it look like it took no effort at all. He was like my goal, and it felt like if I could only get him to notice what I can do and have something positive to say about it- that's all I could ever have asked for." The frown was back.  "For him to... to actually consider me, a cargo pilot, as somebody important, in any way at all... That's... Wow." He sat back, his hands drifting to his lap. "I'd always thought that would be impossible." Although his smile had been flickering on and off throughout their conversation, this one stayed even as his brow smoothed out.

"Almost as impossible as having Allura return your feelings?" Pidge carefully asked.

Lance sighed heavily. "Yeah. Almost."

 

Three days later, a 'mysterious' tech failure caused the elevator to get stuck between floors on the way up to the pool, with Keith and Lance trapped inside.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was visible that almost everything Lance says about Allura, is either platonic (and is compared to his sisters) or it could be said about Keith? It was Lance's vlog that made me first start picking up on that within canon, and I couldn't resist squeezing it into a fanfic. Anyway, so that's why I didn't tag this fic as having a Lance and Allura romance in it- because it's not supposed to be seen that way. Lance is talking about Keith, but the doors of the closet have a magical filter that interchanges pronouns (for security reasons, of course).


	4. Hunk

* * *

 

Shiro was missing.

It wasn’t the first time, and that fact gave the others hope that he could still be alive. He survived the Galra once, so why not again?

But for Pidge, it left a constant pressure on her chest that made it hard to swallow down food. Because she knew what the first time around had done to Shiro better than any of the others, even Keith, knew. Now that he was a Paladin of Voltron and not just some prisoner, they would do more than force him to fight in the ring- they would torture him for information, kill him to make an impact on the Paladin order (not like that hadn’t happened already, with how they were playing Musical Lions), heck, maybe even brainwash him and send him straight back to them to be a ticking time bomb to go off once they all let their guards down.

At the very least, if they got Shiro back, he wouldn’t be the same man he was. He was getting sent right back into the land of his nightmares, the nightmares he’d needed Pidge to help him through, and he was alone as he had to live through them. The damage it would do to him, not to mention the distrust he’d feel towards the Paladins afterwards because it had been their duty to protect him- to keep him from getting captured again…

She got several panic attacks over the course of a few weeks. Sometimes it would happen in the training room. Sometimes during a diplomatic meeting, or while sifting through stolen data for any clue on Shiro’s whereabouts. One time it happened for seemingly no reason at all, while they were playing a board game.

Her own mental health was becoming a priority. She’d spent so much time making sure the others were okay, that she’d somewhat forgotten that everything was having an impact on her. And she had to work through it before it all came crashing down.

It was impressive, though, how well Lance was handling the change in the Castle’s dynamic. He was being the glue that held them all together when Pidge didn’t have the emotional energy to go to them one-by-one and make sure they were all okay. And she couldn’t help but feel a little proud that her small talks with him whenever he was feeling insecure again, played a role in this new maturity.

He’d started having her back, too, actively asking about her projects or offering a helping hand even when he had no clue what any of the scientific terminology meant. As it was, he was on the couch hooked up to a portable Altean polygraph that Pidge was testing the authenticity of after ten thousand years in storage. He’d been resistant to being used as a test subject at first, until he realized that the device was a ‘lie detector,’ after which he just beamed and tapped one foot in excitement while whispering, “Space lie detector,” every half minute, as she attached the suckers to his left temple, neck and wrist.

“It really isn’t,” Pidge helplessly argued, repositioning the wrist sucker after the pulse came up faint. “Many emotions beyond guilt may cause a fluctuation in pulse patterns, among them excitement, fright, anger and nervousness- all which are extremely common in an interrogation situation, especially in response to certain questions. The true lie detector is the person interpreting the polygraph’s measurements, who must register the circumstances in which the truth or lie is told before making judgements, and even with an expert there is room for mistakes, making the system flawed at best and requiring several repetitions of the investigation for accurate results-“

There was the sound of a door sliding open behind her. Lance’s head leaned slightly to the side, and he grinned. Three sharp spikes showed up on the tablet in Pidge’s hands, then settled back into a rhythm just slightly faster than the resting one quickly- almost unnoticeable, if the device didn’t also have a column of numbers giving averages before, during and after the change. “Hey, Allura!” Lance waved. “Good job with Blue out there, by the way.”

Her helmet was still in her hands – she’d stayed behind in the Blue Lion after they came back from their last mission, to talk to her for a while – and she pressed it a bit tighter against herself in excitement and pride. “Why, thank you, Lonce! I’m just grateful it’s all coming together. She was stubborn at first, but I think the two of us are really warming up to each other.”

“Yeah, Red took me a while, too.” A spike upon the Lion’s name. “He’s so much more intense than Blue, always wanting to do something and make a move before I’ve even thought of which way that move’s supposed to go. But he opened up to me, so there must be something about me he appreciates- it’s been all about trying to find that, and bonding on that. I guess Blue should be the same for you.”

Allura hummed in agreement. “We’ve found common ground on our goal to protect the universe, and no more, unfortunately.”

“It’ll get there,” Lance promised, voice sincere and gaze steady. “Maybe a good long meditation session can bring you two together.”

“Maybe it can.”

A few gentle spikes, as Lance awkwardly chuckled. “That was a joke, by the way.”

“Yes, well, just because it has a touch of humour doesn’t mean it doesn’t speak the truth.” And then she smiled, gave a nod, and started heading back the way she came.

“Good luck!” Lance called after her. Once the door shut behind her, the heartbeat grew slower- back to what Pidge guessed was the resting amount. “So, Pidgeo, how’s the machine looking? Does it work?”

She bit her lip, looking down at it. It had shown far lower reactions to Allura’s presence than she’d expected. “…I think it’s got some issues with its sensitivity. It picks up on things, but they’re hard to see. And these kinds of changes are subtle to begin with. Need to amp up the exaggeration, I think.”

“Orrrrrr maybe Lance has been replaced with a Galra clone!” Never mind, it was working perfectly fine- the pulse was rightly skyrocketing when the chair directly across’ seat cushion popped open so Hunk could peek his head out.

“What the heck, man? You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Lance accused, hand clutching the fabric of his shirt. “How long have you been in there? _What_ are you doing in there? And since when do the chairs open? Is that- is that something you guys talked about the first time I was in a pod, too? Did you guys have one big orientation day while I was out, or something? Because it’s been months and I feel like I’m still catching up on stuff everybody else knows.”

Hunk straightened out to his full length, knees clacking as he got up. “Well you see I was certain I’d left our last bit of space cilantro on the counter and I really need it to finish dinner. Then when I looked for it, it was gone- and I saw Platt run out the room so I put two and two together and figured he’d stolen my herbs again. It’s not the first time! That little rascal… Anyway, so I chased him into the living room, because, y’know, why would he run away if he wasn’t guilty? And I saw him disappear between the couch cushions and I found this cool empty space down here, so I got in to look for him but Platt had already gotten out. Then you guys came in and started talking about lie detectors and I got so interested in listening, I kinda forgot you guys didn’t know I was here until you were already settled down and it was a little awkward to tell you I was here, too. And the longer I waited the more awkward it got, y’know?” He nervously fidgeted with his hands as he spoke, and all through the word vomit he wore that tiny puppy dog smile he always used when he wanted to get out of trouble.

Pidge was sceptical of Hunk’s self-proclaimed innocence. “You sure it’s not just because you figured some juicy secrets would come out of the test and you wanted to hear about them without us knowing about it?”

“Hey, come on now, why are we talking about me spying - because I wasn’t spying, I totally wasn’t spying, I never spy, spying is bad and I’ve never done anything bad in, like, my whole life - when we should be talking about how Lance made eye contact with Allura for three plus minutes and he didn’t flirt once, and apparently it didn’t even effect his heartbeat enough to show up on the polygraph.” His gaze honed in on Lance. “That’s different. Did something happen? Did you get replaced? Are you a clone? Did you get mindswished? Blink twice if the Galra are controlling you.”

Lance rolled his eyes instead. “It’s just me, Hunk. The same Lance who roomed with you in the Garrison. Same body, same mind.” He leaned his arms onto his knees, slouching. “I guess I’m just tired over the whole begging at her feet for attention thing. It does _not_ do good for my bad boy image.” He vaguely gestured with one hand. “Right now I’m just keeping an open mind, looking for other options, letting things happen if they’re going to happen… Just, going with the flow,” he explained with a lazy voice.

“Well I’m proud of you, buddy.” Hunk started clambering out of the chair base. “Shows a lot of maturity with how well you’re handling it. And you never know, huh? Like a wise man I know once said, ‘There are lots of fish in the sea. And in space there are tons of seas. And some of those seas don’t even have fish.’”

“WHAT?!” Lance shot up so quickly the tablet nearly got yanked out of Pidge’s hands. It gave a stroke of alarm and displayed rapid beating that was gradually slowing, only to pick up again randomly. “Where’d you hear that? Were you spying on me?” Lance demanded.

“No, of course not, buddy!” Hunk insisted, hands placatingly hovering. “Like I said just now, I don’t spy. Do I really look like the kind of person who would do that?”

The beating stilled rather quickly. “Whew,” Lance breathed, falling back onto the couch. “Good.” He peeked over at Pidge’s screen. “Sorry about that. The lie detector okay?”

Before Pidge could answer, Hunk raised a finger like a nervous schoolboy who doesn’t know the answer to a sum, but won’t dishonour his family by letting the rest of his class know that. “I may have, however, watched your video logs one or five times.”

“Hunk!” Lance groaned. The beating picked up again. “Most of those are meant for my family only! And I still have to edit a lot of them! Some if it was really embarrassing.”

“Ohhhhh, you mean like that one where the waterworks started in the middle of talking about how much you hate the food goo?” Hunk queried. Lance grimaced. The pace picked up. “Or the time you talked about how great Allura is and then dazed off and spent half a minute kissing the air?” Skyrocketing. Lance looked like he was in physical pain. “Or my personal favourite, the one where Keith walked in while you were talking about what a good pilot he is and you tripped over your feet and faceplanted.” Pidge was certain the polygraph was going to combust in her hands, and kept it far away from her face like a balloon that was threatening to pop. “Also, buddy, you really should just not dance. I don’t think it’s for you. I went through all ten videos of that and you didn’t get any better. Still dance like a white suburban dad trying to ‘get with it’ at his teen son’s birthday party.”

“HUNK, SHUT UP!” Lance ripped the suckers off all at once, throwing them to the ground. The tablet went still. The pilot of the Red Lion shoved himself off the couch and marched out the room, each stomp loud enough to make Pidge wince. He probably really missed swinging doors at that moment, since the calm way the door slid closed behind him sharply contrasted to the tone of his exit.

Hunk’s eyes slowly moved to meet Pidge’s. He shrugged, gesturing at the closed door. “What’s up with him?”

Pidge was about one clueless remark away from making the same scene Lance did. “That was some real personal stuff you dug up and watched without his permission.” She tasted acid on her tongue as she glowered at him from under her brows. Lance had been making progress, and Hunk may have very well just scared him back into his cocoon by making fun of every little thing she knew Lance was self-conscious about.

The Yellow Paladin looked uncomfortable under her gaze, weight shifting between his feet. “Yeah, but, he and I are buds. I thought he’d be cool with it,” he defended. “I didn’t think it’d be a big deal, or that there’d be deep stuff on there. Thought he’d just use the videos to fool around, pull pranks on Keith; that sort of stuff. I was hoping for something entertaining while I waited for the cookies to bake.”

Pidge didn’t feel a morsel of sympathy for Hunk. She didn’t even realize she was clenching the tablet before she noticed her hands were becoming cold from the lack of circulation. “And then you watched them and kept watching them even after you noticed that they were personal?”

He shrugged again. He was doing an awful lot of shrugging. “Didn’t make any sense to stop once you’ve started y’know? Every time I got through an embarrassing bit, I thought I’d seen the most of it.”

“And then you admitted to watching them,” Pidge continued to spell out for him, “not to his face, but in a group, and also outed a lot of the things you knew were personal and that you shouldn’t have seen, without a single regard as to how it might affect Lance? That if any of us didn’t know something about Lance, it was because he wanted to keep it a secret?”

Hunk just gave the puppy smile.

Pidge sighed, slumping. She was just so, so tired of feeling angry at Hunk. Her hand brushed over her forehead, smoothing out the aching frown. “You really don’t have any concept of privacy, do you?”

“Well I don’t really see the point.” Again with the defensiveness. “I tell everybody everything and keep no secrets, so why can’t they just do the same for me, y’know?”

How could it be so hard for a person to not just catch the point of having a personal life? It was something so obvious to Pidge; she couldn’t even find the words to explain it. “Well… Some people’s lives haven’t been as smooth-sailing as yours. So they’ve got stuff that you don’t have that they might not want to tell other people about.”

Hunk deadpanned. “I am currently fighting an intergalactic war in a giant ancient alien super weapon spaceship shaped like a cat. My life’s about as smooth as a hedgehog’s back.”

“Well if you stroke them along the angle of growth from root to tip it will increase the surface area rather than all pressure being focused on the tips and resulting in being pricked, allowing for a far smoother experience than expected and- No, hold up, we were talking about privacy,” Pidge caught herself. “It’s not just about what’s happened to someone. It’s how they deal with it. The others have all got their secrets because it’s stuff that they are still dealing with that is still bothering them, and it only makes it harder when other people know about it and pressure them into talking about it or deal with it faster. Sometimes they feel their secrets could even be used against them.”

“They all have secrets?” Hunk’s brow quirked. “Like, what kind of secrets are we talking about? Need examples.”

“Well Shiro is having trouble slee- Hey, knock it off!” she chastised, the anger inside her welling up, increasing a desire to hit something. She slammed her fist as hard against the couch pillow as she could. It did its job to keep her from breaking her fingers in rage. “This is exactly what I’m talking about!”

Hunk was all the face of innocence. “What did I do? I just asked a question.”

“About secrets,” Pidge bit through the teeth. “About revealing secrets. About me telling you secrets that aren’t mine to tell. About tricking me into telling you secrets so you could do exactly with them what the others are afraid you’ll do!”

“When did you get voted the expert on everybody’s secrets, anyway?” Hunk demanded, no longer a puppy but instead the tall, imposing and heavy-set man he really was. Pidge wondered what the polygraph would have said about her when he started stepping towards her. “Why’ve you got to know everything about everyone? I’ve seen the others go to you, and how you get all buddy-buddy and talk one-on-one. Nobody else does that with anyone else. Why’d it have to be you? It doesn’t even matter to you if you know exactly what’s going on around you or not. But it matters to me. I’ve got to know. I can’t not know things!” He was becoming downright hysterical, eyes cold and unseeing, and Pidge was scared.

She was _scared_.

“Hunk. Listen to yourself,” she begged, voice cracking, pushing herself deeper into the couch.

It was like sanity had flooded back into Hunk’s eyes. He took a step back, and broke eye contact, staring at his boots instead. “I just… I really don’t like secrets.” His shoulders slumped helplessly. “When I’m keeping them, they make me feel guilty, and when other people are keeping them, it feels like they’re plotting something against me. So I just like to set the example and lay all my cards on the table, and hope that people will follow suit, y’know.”

“But they don’t.”

His shoulders slumped even lower, his chin tucking into his chest. “No. They don’t.”

“So you force their cards open on the table yourself.”

He drew invisible patterns on the floor with his toe.

This wasn’t Hunk being a bad person, Pidge realized. This was just Hunk being as broken as the rest of them. “Maybe you’d be less anxious if you relied less on proof and more on trust.”

“But I’m an engineer, Pidge,” Hunk reminded her, head lifting so he could meet her eye. “No matter how good we are, we need to test out just how foolproof our work is, and can’t trust that nothing wrong will happen.”

“But people aren’t machines,” Pidge carefully explained. “And we aren’t just people. We’re your family. Nobody here’s going to hurt you.”

“But they might… say stuff about me.” She could see that though he wanted to argue, he knew he was running out of good points. “Behind my back. And I know there’s some really nasty stuff to say,” his hand rested on his belly self-consciously, “and even if it hurts I’ll always want it said to my face and not behind my back.” He took a deep breath in, then sighed, plopping down beside her. He rested his hands, folded together, in his lap. “Maybe I’m also a bit jealous,” he admitted. “At the beginning everybody used to come to me, y’know? Lance always wanted lots of hugs. Man that kid can never get enough of hugs. When Keith wanted company, he’d just sit in the same room as me while I’m working on something and whittle. I think he liked that there was no pressure to talk. And Shiro always used to invite me to the training room to wrestle- y’know, when he was still around. But since you told everybody you’re a girl, it’s like you’ve become their go-to. Heck, you’ve even become my go-to, right now.”

“Aww, that’s sweet, Hunk.” But… “But I don’t think being a girl has anything to do with it. It’s more because I didn’t have a reason to shut myself out anymore since I wasn’t keeping anything from you guys anymore.” It took her a moment. “…Oh.”

“Yeah. Exactly. ‘Oh,’” Hunk muttered, his voice flat. “Secrets keep people apart, Pidge. They shut us out. And it’s not like it’s old secrets from before we met. The longer we stay here, the more people shut me out but let you in. The more they become like you did before you told us who you really were. And I’m worried that I don’t know who anybody is anymore. We’ve been out here for, what, three months? Six? People can change a lot in that time, especially if so much is happening like it is now.” He tipped his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “How do you do it? How do you make them trust you? How are you getting me to tell you all this, anyway? Do you have some crazy mom powers, or something?”

“Mom powers?” Pidge echoed. Sure, she’d become the mother hen, but she’d hardly considered it a power. It didn’t seem like anything people couldn’t do if they put their mind to trying.

“Yeah, you know…” Hunk vaguely elaborated. “Like how moms just know when something’s happened to their kids. And can get them to own up about everything they did wrong, and get angry at the kids and still be loved by them. You’ve got that. It’s like you’ve adopted everyone. Shiro, Lance, Keith… Even Allura and Coran are drawn to you, because you just have this instinct that something we’ve said is solely Earth stuff they wouldn’t understand, and can explain it to them without a hitch in the conversation.”

Pidge hummed in thought. “So, basically, the reason you feel shut out and like you’ve got to know every secret, is because you’re not a part of this new little family yet?”

“Yet?” Hunk echoed, face confused but with a light of hope in it.

Pidge grinned and nodded. “Can’t you tell? I’m adopting you, too.”

“Naaaaaaaaaw, Piiiiiiiiiiidge!” In an instant, Hunk’s arms had wrapped around her and pulled her tight into a side-hug. “You’re the bestest Space Mom ever!”

Pidge scowled best as she could with the short breaths the tight hug allowed. “Please don’t call me that, though. It makes me sound like I’m married to Shiro, which, eugh.”

“Wanna be the Space Vodka Aunt instead, then?"

“Heck no. Let Shiro be the Space Vodka Uncle or whatever. I’d rather claim Space Mom for myself.”

“Yaaaay, Space Mom!” he cheered, rocking her in excitement. “Oh you’re gonna love Earth Mom, she bakes the best crème brulee and she never stops hugging tiny angry girls like you.”

“I see where she gets it from,” Pidge grumbled from under the arms that were swamping her head. She faked choking for air. “Lungs. Need… more… room.”

“Oops.” He released her at once, and she fell back onto the couch. She hadn’t even realized he’d managed to pick her up even while sitting down. “Don’t want to break my Space Mom on the day I’m adopted.”

She patted his arm as she forced her breathing to return to normal. “Just… try not to read or watch people’s personal private journals again, okay? If you really want the latest scoop so badly, start coming across as more trustworthy and they’ll come to you. You’re only allowed to know secrets if you won’t share them. Maybe draw them in barkeeper style. Just stand around in the kitchen polishing a glass with a towel. Makes people feel less under pressure when you’re multitasking, and gets them to open up more.”

“Ooh, good idea!” She could almost see the cogs in Hunk’s brain beginning to turn as he counted off on his fingers. “I’m gonna serve space mocktails and space fruit punch and-“

“I only said to stand around cleaning stuff,” Pidge quickly interrupted him before he went too far off track. “I never said you had to make a whole bar.”

“Too late!” Hunk beamed, getting up and sprinting out the room so fast the door almost didn’t open for him in time, probably on his way to get started on some sample drinks.

“There better not be any alcohol!” Pidge heckled after him. “Space Mom does not approve of you drinking until your wedding day!”

 

The bar proved to be a big hit, though none of the drinks were alcoholic, to Pidge’s relief- despite Hunk’s expertise with taste, he just wasn’t able to make anything out of the disgusting hotdog water of an alcohol the Alteans stocked up on. Everyone on board became a regular, showing up in their free time when they wanted to chat or to drown their sorrows in rum and coke without the rum.

When Shiro returned (both his body and mind in one piece, it seemed) he swore on his life that Hunk had managed make the mock grasshopper alcoholic despite alcohol not being an ingredient, and would become tipsy, if only psychologically, without fail every time he binge-drank them, and he got very grumpy when they all agreed to limit how many he could have in a day.

Keith just always ordered the same carbonated strawberry-water and would stare at the bubbles until the drink went flat before downing it in one go. Sometimes he’d do it late in the night and would fall asleep with his head resting on the counter- it became built into the others’ routine to check that he was actually sleeping in his bed and not slumped onto cold metal.

Lance was very curious about ‘the art of space mixology’ and after getting a couple of lessons from Hunk, he could often be found manning the bar himself, humming and nodding in agreement to people’s moans and rues as he polished the counter and glasses endlessly, taking it all into his stride as if there was no limit to the weight his shoulders could carry.

It was safe to say Pidge now had some helping hands in her mission to assure the team’s mental health.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is not done yet! Stay tuned for Pidge's chapter, which will not only be extra long and practically a fic on its own, but also somewhat of a happily-ever-after for all the other Paladins' progress.
> 
> Also, check out my other work in the series if you haven't already!
> 
> I realize that I am really, really late with updating, since I promised to put this fic up back in November. But I did not account for getting hit with that darn executive dysfunction immediately after finishing the school year, then after that I had to make birthday cards for all the November babies, and before I knew it, it was mid-December. Right now I am pulling all-nighters to get as much as possible out before Season 8 goes online. Wish me luck.
> 
> If you like my work, don't mourn the end of Voltron too much or leave the fandom, because I vow to still release some novel-length AU's featuring our beloved characters even after I've binge-watched S8, cried, and binge-watched it again.


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